


Patty Cake

by FroldGapp



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Friendship, Give me tags, Hunk & Lance (Voltron) Friendship, Hunk (Voltron) is so Pure, Hurt Keith (Voltron), Hurt/Comfort, If You Squint - Freeform, Keith (Voltron) is a Mess, Keith whump, SHEITH - Freeform, Sad Keith (Voltron), Space Dad Shiro (Voltron), but also heith i suppose, friends n that, how to tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-17
Updated: 2017-08-02
Packaged: 2018-10-06 09:34:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10331687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FroldGapp/pseuds/FroldGapp
Summary: Quiet, aloof, and alone, Keith is distant from the rest of the team. Hunk begins to suspect why, and it's only when the red paladin pushes himself too far, the Voltron gang realise he's just as vulnerable as the rest of them.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks. Written in a oner and completely unedited. Oooops!
> 
> Follow me on tumblr: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/froldgapp
> 
> Also, a very lovely person asked about Tailspin. I took it down as I wrote myself into a corner with it. Will do a bit of reworking and hopefully have it back up again! Apologies! xx

Keith had no idea what time it was when he called an end to the training session and deactivated his bayard. He was deathly tired, but was almost tempted to go another round. He still had a bad habit of checking his left wrist for the watch he’d long since gifted to some adorable – if many headed – alien kid on a planet they’d liberated from the Galra. Not that it would matter. Time on the castleship was confusing to say the least. The ship had been pretty quiet when he started so he guessed everyone was in bed.

Red took the opportunity to remind him how comfortable his own bed was, how soft the cool fabric of the pillow would feel under his cheek.

‘Yeah, yeah,’ the paladin mumbled and limped towards the door, his left knee having taken quite the kick from the training bot, which now lay smoking behind him.

A quick trip to the kitchen for some water and Keith was soon in his room, stripped down to just his boxers and climbing into bed. He ran his eye over the smattering of bruises that dotted his left arm and the faded yellow one that covered his chest from upper abs to clavicle. Shiro had said his ever-increasing risk taking would result in more body-blows. He’d also said that someone Keith’s size couldn’t afford those kinds of hits in a real battle situation from seven foot purple monsters. Prodding the discoloured skin with a hiss, the red paladin was inclined to agree. With a sigh and a silent pat of the blade tucked away under his pillow, Keith ordered the lights off and fell into an exhausted but satisfied sleep.

***

The next morning Keith woke with a start. The red light above his door was spinning crazily, and a siren was blaring throughout the ship. He jumped out of bed, tumbling to the floor with his ankles caught in the bed sheets. He swore, stood, then collapsed again as his knee failed. On his third attempt, he was on his feet and shimmying into his black jeans. A t-shirt – the same he wore to his training and still damp – followed, back-to-front then the right way round. He yanked open the door and raced down the hallway, his bad knee complaining less as he picked up speed and got it warmed up a bit.

He reached the bridge, all uncombed hair and sweaty upper lip but…

‘What’s going on?’ he asked, slightly winded from his unexpected run. Pidge and Coran turned to him, beaming, the green paladin’s finger still hovering above the emergency hail button.

Lance, who was wearing an apron and his signature blue lion slippers, clapped Hunk on the shoulders. The bigger boy was carrying a tray of steaming pancakes.

‘We have an emergency,’ cried Lance, mock aghast. His face broke into a grin bright enough to blind a Galra. ‘And that emergency is: space pancakes!’

Keith slumped against the wall. ‘Guys,’ he groaned. And immediately, immediately, he felt the energy drop in the room. Pidge rolled her eyes for one. Hunk looked sheepish and a little ashamed. Lance looked absolutely, smugly, satisfyingly vindicated as he always did when Keith was a ‘downer’.

‘Pancakes instead of goo,’ Lance said. ‘Pancakes, Keith. That’s an emergency.’

Keith could feel the sweat start to gather on his back. He hated getting into anything with anyone, nevermind beaming, bright, boisterous Lance. And yet, it always happened, time and time again. It was impossible. It was like a hole he kept falling into no matter how he tried to avoid it. Maybe because said hole kept putting itself directly under his feet.

‘Look,’ he said, pushing off the wall. Lance folded his arms, smirk unfurling on his tanned face. Keith started again. ‘Well, wh- what do we do when there’s a real emergency?’

Lance lifted another pancake and waved it like a rare specimen of a beautiful flower. ‘Well, “A”, I think we’ve already established that having pancakes in space _is_ an emergency. Especially when they’re getting cold while we argue with you. And “B”, when there is a real emergency we’ll all still be here, same as we are everytime. Without you telling us to be, because – you know – we’re paladins of Voltron too.’

Pidge stepped away from Coran who had yet to say anything, choosing instead to play innocently with a control panel Keith knew hadn’t worked in over 10,000 years. ‘And “C,”’ she added. ‘Can you like just go train or something if you’re not into this so we can still have a good time?’

Keith’s mouth popped open and promptly closed. That was… was that how she felt? ‘I’m not trying to stop you having a good time,’ he said. His knee had started throbbing now the rush from his sprint to the bridge was wearing off.

‘Keith,’ Pidge returned, flinging herself down on the couch with her back to him. ‘That’s literally what you’re doing right now.’

‘Come on, guys,’ Hunk said, placing the tray down on the small table in the middle of the couches. ‘Keith kind of has a point. We could have just wrapped doors. Or like… waited… or something… Called them...’ he trailed off, offering Keith a helpless shrug.

‘What’s all this?’

Shiro and Allura appeared behind Keith. He stood aside as the two of them confidently strode into the room and straight up to the pancakes.

‘Are… are these pancakes?’ Shiro asked, wide-eyed. He bent over the tray and pulled in a deep breath.

‘They smell delightful,’ Allura said. Her face fell. ‘But, what about the emergency alarm? I trust everything is in order again?’ She looked at Coran who offered a weak thumbs up.

‘Yeah,’ Shiro said, lifting a pancake and dropping it into his mouth. ‘I thought I heard Hunk diffusing the daily Keith-Lance spat?’

‘Captain kill-joy here,’ said Lance, grabbing a pancake and shoving it into his mouth. He spoke through chewing. ‘Was riding us for trying to do something fun.’

Six pairs of eyes turned to Keith. ‘I wasn’t–’

Pidge gave him a very, very sassy look over her shoulder.

Shiro sighed and wiped a hand over his face before sharing a knowing look with Allura. It was a pattern Keith was noticing lately in Shiro: try to deal with Keith, look tired, look tiredly at Allura, smile wearily, try to deal with Keith again.

But why did he always feel like he needed to be dealt with?

‘Keith,’ Shiro said, then coughed. ‘I know how seriously you take your position, and Voltron as a whole. And I appreciate that, but–’

The red paladin couldn’t believe it. Sending out an emergency siren for pancakes? ‘Oh, come on, Shiro,’ he said. He was starting to feel the familiar cold of another confrontation sink into his feet. He really, really didn’t want to start his day with another stupid argument.

Shiro held up his hand. ‘But,’ he said. ‘It’s really important to unwind when we can. You too– maybe even you especially. It’s not easy being the right arm of Voltron. There’s no emergency. Just, well, pancakes.’ He smiled hopefully, eyebrows raised.

‘I ran here from my room,’ Keith protested. ‘I thought we were under attack.’

‘Yes, and everyone else here,’ Lance waved his hands around the group. ‘Had some perspective and saw that it was Hunk trying to do something nice for us.’

Hunk held his hands out placatingly. ‘Ah! The siren wasn’t my idea though so…’

‘So, maybe instead of doing your emo “Everyone else is wrong” dance you can just chill and eat a delicious, fluffy pancake.’ He smiled, head cocked. Goading. ‘Bro.’

There was nothing in the universe Keith wanted less than to walk down those few short steps and sit with the group– all of whom were watching him with expressions ranging from hope (Hunk) to total jadedness (Pidge, Lance, Shiro, Allura…)

‘I’m going to train,’ Keith said simply. He turned and walked off.

‘Keith! Keith, come on!’ Shiro called after him, but Keith was already halfway down the hallway.

He turned back to the others with a small smile. ‘He’s fine.’ The black paladin didn’t look totally convinced, but what could he do short of dragging Keith back and forcing a pancake into his mouth making choo-choo train noises? ‘You know how he is. Best give him a little space.’

Lance chuckled. ‘Space! Ha! That’s good. Lots of it up here.’ He sporked a pancake and wiggled it in front of Hunk’s face.

Hunk, distracted, batted it aside gently. ‘Hey, did anyone else notice Keith was limping?’


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, written in a oner. No beta. Did a little pre-edit but I'm sure a lot of errors snuck through like space-mice!

‘Oh hey, Rover!’ Hunk said cheerily, nodding to the little re-purposed Galra bot as it sped by, presumably on its way to Pidge. The yellow paladin continued down the ship’s many corridors, humming tunelessly as he went. In his left hand was a small plate with one single, cold pancake on it. It was the last one he managed to salvage from the group despite Lance’s theatrics. But Hunk wasn’t backing down. Like his lion, the gentle boy could be immovable enough when the mood took him and he was determined that Keith was going to enjoy some of his cooking. Watching Keith stalk off down the hallway, favouring his right leg considerably, Hunk had something of an epiphany. 

 

Keith never, ever left himself open. Ever.

 

Hunk didn’t mean in the emotional sense. Well, there was that too– but everyone knew that Keith was a closed book, so that wasn’t much of an epiphany. He meant in an actual practical, day-to-day sense. Keith avoided eating round the others, napping round the others, relaxing round the others, showering round the others, and just generally kicking back around the others. Any situation where the red paladin was engaged in something  _ human _ and basic and otherwise vulnerable, he took the absolute greatest care to do it in private. Hence, food fights instead of eating when he was chained to Lance back when they first came aboard the ship, changing in the privacy of his room before and after training, and avoiding the healing pod at all costs– even with his clearly busted up knee. Because what’s more vulnerable than being suspended in ice-cold jelly while your teammates ogle all over your sleeping, grumpy-Keith face?

 

So, Hunk figured if you can’t bring the proverbial horse to the pancakes, then you just had to bring the pancake to the stubborn, stubborn horse.

 

Approaching the training deck, Hunk was surprised at how quiet it was. As he inched closer to the window he realised that the deck was in total darkness and wasn’t being used at all. Strange for Keith not to train when he said he was going to. Keith was the king of sticking to his word, whether that word was Kamikaze school of flight, or not talking to Lance for twenty-four vargas. That left only two places: Keith’s room, or Red’s hangar.

 

‘Come on, little pancake,’ Hunk sighed. ‘Time to sacrifice you to the God of Introversion.’

 

***

 

Keith hadn’t even been training five minutes when a sweeping kick from the training bot sent him sprawling and hissing to the floor. ‘End programme! End programme!’ he’d cried, frantic, as the bot raised its staff above his head. In hindsight, it was probably a very bad idea to start the regime on level four given the state his leg was in, but he felt like taking a bit of a beating. Just not that much. Climbing to his feet, he gave the bot a playful punch on the jaw before limping past it. He ordered the lights off and stood at the door, feeling at a loss. He couldn’t return to the bridge because that was literal hell, but his room was hardly any better– four walls, one mysterious dagger, and the whole lot of nothing he’d owned since leaving his last foster house for the garrison. Red gave him a gentle prod. No surprises there. The more he got to know his lion, the more he realised she really didn’t like being alone. No matter what she told the others. She liked company–needed it, in fact– just on her terms.

 

‘Okay, you big softy. I’m coming,’ he chuckled, and hobbled his way down the corridor holding onto the wall as he went. That bot really gave it to him.

 

Keith figured that so long as the wire cloth was within arm’s reach he was ostensibly working on buffing up Red. He was certainly not spending his downtime in an intergalactic war against a genocidal alien race hanging out with a metal cat. If he heard someone coming, he’d have ample time to get to his feet and begin ‘working’. What he didn’t count on was how cool the metal of her claw felt against his head as he leaned on her, or how her deep, thrumming purr calmed him to the point that he melted against her, legs stretched out in front of him and hands lying open on the hard floor. In his right palm, two of the space-mice were curled up together, while the other two lay nestled on the flat of his stomach. He noticed a few holes in his shirt around his belly-button just that week from where their tiny claws had started to cut through the fabric. He supposed they were kind of cute in their way. He preferred it when they were taking tiny space-rodent dumps on Pidge and not him though. He smiled, his head falling sideways so his cheek was pressed against Red. What in good quiznak had happened in his life to bring him to this point? An orphan, some space mice, a giant metal cat, and six other dysfunctional noisy, bothersome, sweet, brave... friends? Teammates. Colleagues. Co-figh–

 

‘Eh, hi… Keith.’

 

The red paladin made a noise not unlike a startled cat, launching himself out of his unexpected nap with enough force to send four innocent space-mice hurtling across the hangar.

 

‘Hunk!’ Keith screeched, scrabbling for the metal scouring cloth, his bleary head having yet to transmit that there’s no way he was fooling anyone that he was working if his drool on Red’s claw was anything to go by. Or the fact that he was snoring gently when Hunk walked in. Or how he smiled in his sleep, just so, as Red spoke to him of Altea, and perfect dives and rolls, and flying for miles and miles just for the fun of it. ‘Hunk!’ he repeated, catching his breath. ‘What- what are you doing here? I was just-’

 

Hunk stood, eyes wide and mouth drawn in a tiny line. He spoke quickly. ‘Taking a little snooze cruise, buddy?’

 

‘No,’ Keith drawled.

 

‘Little nap attack?’

 

‘No. I was… Red’s… You see Red, she–’

 

‘Slumber number?’

 

‘Hunk,’ Keith groaned, pushing himself back so he was sitting against Red again. There was no way in a million years he was going to climb to his feet in front of Hunk with his knee throbbing the way it was.

 

Hunk inched closer, nary a smile showing on his lips. His eyes narrowed up at Red. ‘A little…’ he winked. ‘Cat nap?’

 

Keith huffed and folded his arms. ‘You already said “nap”’. 

 

Hunk resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He repeated in his head:  _ He’s not a kill-joy, he’s Keith. He’s not a kill-joy, he’s Keith _ , like a mantra. He ambled closer to his teammate, chatting as he went. ‘Well, Keith, buddy. You know what “nap” spells backwards?’

 

‘Ugh.’ It might have been a record-length groan from Keith. Hunk was rather proud of himself.

 

‘That’s right! Pan! As in pancake!’ Hunk offered the plate. ‘And there’s one right here! With something on top that  _ may _ be a cosmic blueberry  _ or _ some totally harmless mouse-droppings.’ He inched closer. ‘Eh?’

 

Keith’s arms tightened in their fold, but the next second they were spread either side of him as Red came to life beneath his back. With one shunt, the red lion nudged her paladin forward. He emitted a single yelp and turned back to her with betrayal written all over his face.

 

Hunk raised his hands, careful not to drop the pancake. ‘She likes me!’ he cried.

 

Keith couldn’t resist a soft laugh. ‘Of course she likes you, Hunk,’ he said, finally taking the plate from the yellow paladin. ‘Everyone does.’

 

Hunk beamed, but a split-second later the faintest echo of something in Keith’s words reached his ears. He couldn’t put his finger on it. Sadness wasn’t quite right. Something much more complex than that. He hummed softly to himself, watching as Keith plucked the mysterious dark blue glob from the top of the pancake and popped it into his mouth.

 

‘So?’ he asked. ‘Space berry or poop?’

 

Keith laughed and shook his head, shy almost. His long fingers teased off a piece of the pancake and he held it in front of him not admiringly, but close to it. ‘You know, this is going to sound like the saddest thing ever, Hunk, so please don’t laugh,’ he started. ‘But–’

 

He was shoved forward once again as Red stood to her full height, the alarms blaring all around the hangar.

 

‘Paladins!’ Allura’s voice boomed across the huge room. ‘Get to your lions! We’ve run into a Galran warship! It looks abandoned but we had better check it out!’

 

Both boys raced to ready themselves for whatever was in store for them, the plate and pancake lying forgotten on the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So folks... how real do we want to get here? How hurty? On a scale of one to hurty?


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No beta as usual. I'm sure there are loads of typos, I'll fix up as I see 'em!

The ship was a ruin. Grey-green slime dripped from exposed metal beams, while steam hissed in jets from between the grated rigging either side of the ship’s thin walkways. Allura had called it a ‘warship’ but it seemed more a coalmine, more a coffin.

‘How old is this thing?’ Hunk asked as he inched forward on one foot, Keith’s slim silhouette ahead of him. Shiro, Pidge and Lance were elsewhere on the ship, working their way toward a central rendezvous point. Hunk loved Keith, he really did, but the silence was killing him. He bet the other three were at least giving backslaps or winks or the like. Maybe an occasional high five. The sickly yellow glow from his bayard was doing nothing to calm his nerves. Every pattern of bolts looked like a snarling face, every tangle of wires like a reaching hand. ‘Doesn’t it seem a bit old to you guys? Doesn’t it look argh–!’ He sprang back when a particularly furious cloud of steam puffed out right in front of him. ‘K-kind of ghostly? Like a ghost ship?’

‘Focus, Hunk,’ snapped Keith.

Pidge chuckled over the comms. ‘Hunk, the place is abandoned. Keith’s just being dramatic. Besides, it’s just an old ship. Like a junkyard. You aren’t scared of junkyards, are you?’

He paused, aghast. ‘Of _course_ , I’m scared of junkyards!’

‘Guys, cut it out!’ Ahead of him, Keith had stopped. His compact frame was haloed by billowing yellow smoke, and by the set of his shoulders he was already pissed off. ‘Be serious. We don’t know if it’s abandoned yet.’

‘Easy, Keith,’ Shiro’s clipped voice intervened over the line. ‘We’re all a little freaked out.’ There was a telling pause, the sound of many objecting hand gestures, and at last; a tired sigh. ‘Aren’t we Lance?’

‘ _No_.’

‘Look, we’re almost at the rendezvous point. When we’re certain there aren’t any lifeforms on board we can get back to the castle and call in some friendly locals to pick it up for scrap.’

Hunk collected himself and nodded at Keith to continue. The red paladin graced him with a small, grateful smile then turned back. Silent once again.

‘Man, Shiro’s so together,’ Hunk considered as they walked. ‘You know? Like… like a big tree. A big stocky tree. Like a big stocky tree and the wind’s like, “I’m gonna knock you over!” And Shiro’s like, “Not today, buddy!”’ Hunk smiled to himself. Yeah, this wasn’t so bad. Just a big old dead ship full of nothing but wires.

The comms fizzed to life again and Pidge laughed. ‘You know then he’d be like...” She put on her best baritone, ‘But do you wanna talk about it wind? You seem kind of mad.’

Shiro simply sighed.

Hunk snorted. ‘Yeah! Like, hey _wind_ , why you gotta be like that? Kind of _wound_ up? Wind… whined… uh…’

‘You tried, buddy.’ Pidge laughed.

‘Guys,’ Keith had stopped again, and Hunk braced himself for another terse scolding. But rather, the red paladin was crouched low at the bend ahead of them, head cocked and weight off his left leg. His whispered voice rang through their comms. ‘I think I heard something.’

‘Was it a tumbleweed 'cos of Hunk's lame gag?’ Pidge asked.

Keith shrugged, uncertain. ‘No…?’ He leaned forward again, straining to listen. ‘I can’t… Can you hear that?’

Hunk shook his head. Sweat had started to bead on the back of his neck. So much for the calming Shiro-tree and the totally-not-scary-junkyard vibe.

Huffing in frustration, Keith reached up and began tugging his helmet free.

‘Woah, woah, Keith!’ Hunk cried. ‘Are you sure you should be taking your helmet off?’

Grunting, Keith finally managed to wrestle the helmet free. His hair clung to his forehead in wet clumps, and when he spoke his voice was chipped and tired. ‘Yeah, I already checked the environment.’

‘Yeah, but what about…’ Hunk made stabbing, chopping, shooting motions. ‘Other environmental factors?’

Keith smirked. ‘Trying not to be dramatic. Since the place is _definitely_ abandoned and all.’

‘Keith,’ Hunk whined. Damnit, Pidge. Didn’t these people know better than to rankle an angry Keith?

The red paladin snorted and turned back to the corner. ‘I just want to hear better, Hunk. Chill ou–’

A crash split the air as the entire ceiling between them buckled and then collapsed. Thick shards of dark, mottled metal exploded downwards with deafening shrieks as gas exploded in clouds that roiled over what remained of the ceiling and walls. Hunk scrambled to activate his bayard. There was screaming. He was screaming. The rest of the team were yelling their concern, shouting coordinates and frantic orders.

From the mess of wires and twisted steel a huge, dark shape rose on trembling legs, grey skin moist with the same slime that coated the entire ship. Five yellow eyes twisted this way and that on finger-like protrusions and beneath those, a great maw yawned from face to belly. Within, Hunk could see crunched pieces of galra armour stuck between thin, amber teeth.

‘Holy toledos,’ he uttered, moments before the creature lunged. An arm the size of a signpost swung towards him, blunt claws whistling. Hunk activated his shield and braced.

A flash of white and red darted in front of him.

‘Keith!’ Hunk yelled, euphoric, terrified, confused. But as suddenly as the red paladin had appeared, everything crystallised into chilling clarity.

In one instant, Keith was on his feet, head bowed and sword upright, ready to catch the monster at the wrist, but in the next, his left knee gave out and he was falling. Messy. _Messy_. Messier than Hunk could ever have imagined. Keith lay sprawled between them, slipping on slime and stinking oil. A giggle almost tittered from Hunk; Keith wasn't messy, wasn't clumsy. It was obscene to see him struggle so. A legion of cuts marked the red paladin’s face and neck. His right eye was closed entirely, blood pooled in the cavity of the same ear.

‘Holy – Keith! Keith!’ He couldn’t stand up. His leg. His _leg_!

The creature reared back and lunged once more. But, miraculously, there was Keith again: one arm braced against Hunk’s quaking shield and the other holding his own above his head as the monster rained down punch after punch after punch. Both of them were screaming now. Hunk desperately tried to reach back for his bayard, but if he moved an inch Keith was liable to lose his footing again and be crushed. With each blow, however, the red paladin’s shield was weakening; so much lighter, so much smaller than Hunk’s own.

‘We’re coming!’ Lance yelled. ‘One minute. Two tops.’

‘Lance! Oh God, _Lance_!’ Hunk screamed. Sweet, wonderful, stupid, brave, amazing Lance.

‘Just hold it off, whatever it is! Hunk, you defend! Keith, glancing attacks only.’ Shiro, abrupt but calm. Always present, always in control. God, how he loved Shiro and his big, sensible head. But he couldn't have known; couldn't have known that Keith was already there defending Hunk, right on the front lines.

Hunk swallowed the lump that was trying to erupt from his throat. This was all wrong. All back to front. Hunk was twice the size of Keith, yet here he was, cowering behind the bent and trembling form of his teammate.

‘Keith!’ Hunk shouted and struggled to get hold of his bayard again, but each time he did, Keith faltered and almost lost his balance under the relentless thumping of the beast. But in the next moment, it didn’t matter anyway.

In the next moment, the beast brought down both fists.

In the next moment, Keith’s shield finally sparked out and the monster’s blow shattered his white armour from elbow to wrist.

Horrified, Hunk rushed to shove his shield in front of Keith. But the creature, despite its size, was faster. With one large hand, it wrenched the red paladin up by the head. Keith wailed, bringing both hands up to grasp the thick arm that threatened to snap his neck as he was tossed this way and that. The beast howled once, long and low, then again before dangling the red paladin over its gross, baying mouth. Keith clawed and twisted like a ferocious cat, but in that horrible, haunting moment, he had never looked so small.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am *so* sorry for the delay on this. My job got crazy around the time I posted chapter 2 and then you know how it goes... It's hard to get back into the swing of things.
> 
> You asked for hurty, and hurty there be WITH MORE HURTY TO COME.
> 
> I hope it is hurtifulicious enough!?!?!?!? Get at me on tumblr! https://www.tumblr.com/blog/froldgapp
> 
> (we're not right in the head haha)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> O_O

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual, no beta. Mistakes will be cleaned up... sometime?

Through Black’s starboard window, Red loomed large; yellow eye cutting like a dagger through the cockpit. Occasionally, she tilted her massive head towards Black, both seeing and unseeing as her paladin was rushed back to the castle of lions. Yellow followed on the portside at a greater distance, though Hunk could still feel the faint thrumming of engines and the phantom rush of cold space over alien alloy. Beside him, Keith was fighting a losing battle with sleep. His head drooped routinely before he snapped upright again with a pained hiss. His neck was a disaster of welts and bruises.

‘Come here, buddy,’ Hunk said quietly, pulling Keith towards him until their pauldrons clacked together.

Keith nodded and swallowed hard. His eyes canted upward. ‘Shiro?’ he said, quietly. When only silence answered him, he closed his one good eye and sank against Hunk.

Half-obscured by the pilot’s chair, Shiro simply pushed forward on the throttle, gore still dripping from his galra arm.

OoO

‘What were you thinking?!’

The bridge never felt bigger. The ceiling never so high. Shiro’s voice bounced off the windows and tore across the gleaming floor. Keith stumbled as he was swung bodily into the room, his left knee folding with every skidding step. Pidge stared at the bayard held between her hands, shoulders rigid. Coran and Allura took their place either side of Shiro, cautious of this strange, savage version of the Voltron leader. Lance ghosted a look at Hunk, eyes blown wide, afraid. ‘ _What the fuck?’_ he mouthed. Hunk shook his head, _‘Not now’_.

‘Shiro, please, I–’

The black paladin sucked a breath in through his nose and raised his hand for silence. Keith’s mouth pop closed and he stilled utterly. He looked like a toy with the batteries yanked out.

Shiro began counting off offences, folding the fingers of his right hand in with short jerks. ‘You removed your helmet during a live mission.’

Hunk stole a glance at Keith. The multitude cuts from the collapsed ceiling had stopped bleeding, though his ear was black with dried blood and his eye had swollen impressively. Nostrils flaring, the red paladin had begun correcting his stance in minute movements, trying to take any pressure off his bad knee. Hunk tutted quietly. He should be in a pod.

‘You failed to report or seek attention for your injured leg. An injury that put your life and that of your partner in jeopardy.’

‘Shiro–’

‘And the worst! Worst of all! You showed an utter lack of trust in your team– in Hunk’s skill and speciality as a paladin. You rushed in head-first, totally ignoring weeks – _months_ – of training. Training that I stupidly assumed got this out of your system.’

Stricken, Keith took a cautious step forward, eyes darting from member to member. ‘No… no, that’s not. I- I- of course I trust…’ His head whipped to Hunk. ‘Hunk, of course I trust you. I do… I…’

Feeling queasy, Hunk could not meet Keith’s wounded eyes. As he glanced up through his eyelashes, he noticed nobody could. 

‘Hunk,’ Keith said, beseeching. Still Hunk couldn’t look. It was all too strange, all back to front: a stooped and shaking Keith and an unbending and raging Shiro. Keith inched closer to the small semicircle in front of him. ‘I trust you. I do.’

Shiro groaned and ran a hand through his hair. ‘No, you don’t. No you _don’t_ , Keith. Hunk’s shield is _made_ for those blows. He's Voltron's armour. That's what he _does._  We’ve talked about this, Keith. Come on. We’ve talked about this a thousand times. When are you going to _listen_ and stop doing everything alone?’ 

Something sparked. A chip of glass glinting in the sun. Dry-leafed tension crackled in the room.

‘That’s… that’s not fair.’

‘I don’t _care_ if it’s fair. I care about my team. I care about _you!’_

The dry leaves flinched and curled in the oven-hot wind. Keith sneered, an ugly thing.

‘You were almost eaten, for Christ’s sake! You almost died!’

The fire caught. The forest went ablaze.

Keith screamed, spit flying, ‘Well who fucking cares!?’ 

In two strides, Shiro met him, open palm connecting with his cheek hard enough to force him back and tumbling onto his backside.

Allura’s hand flew to her mouth. Coran bowed his head and gave Pidge’s shoulder a squeeze. Hunk closed his eyes, Keith’s horrified expression burned into his retina.

Nobody moved for a very long time. Then, with a terse cough Shiro strode towards the control console. ‘Allura. Coran,’ he heaved through a sigh. ‘How do we hail that pick-up crew for the vessel?’

‘Shiro…’ Keith, still on the floor, had turned in place to trace the black paladin's back with a single, bright eye. He cleared his throat, voice quivering. ‘Shiro.. I'm–’

‘Keith!’ Shiro bit, then sighed again, shoulders bowing. ‘I- can’t deal with you right now.' Keith's face was a mask of anguish as he tore his gaze from Shiro's broad back. 'Hunk,’ Shiro addressed the yellow paladin without turning. ‘Take Keith to a pod. No arguments.’

Uncertain, Hunk approached Keith, half-expecting a fight. Instead, the red paladin was already struggling to his feet. When Hunk offered his hand, he took it without a word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Told you it'd come faster with more hurty. Almost there, buds!
> 
> Get at me on tumblr: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/froldgapp


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ㅠ_ㅠ

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, no beta. 3am here. Mistakes are certain, I shall clean them up retro styley!

Nobody could sleep and the castle was silence.

The faint humming of the ship or the scurrying of the mice were not enough to fill the void left behind by what happened on the bridge. The lights had dimmed to somnolent blue and Keith had been in a healing pod for hours now. Allura had turned in for the night and Coran was still coordinating with the pick-up fleet, eager always to forge new relationship. The young trio of paladins drifted from couch to kitchen and back again, lost. They were tired, harried, freshly showered but still quaking from the grime and gristle of the mission. Of Shiro, there was no sign.

‘What _was_ that?’ Lance asked, head resting in Pidge’s lap as he picked absently at the quick of his thumb.

Pidge shrugged and scraped dried soap from above Lance’s eyebrow. She rolled it a few times between her thumb and forefinger then flicked it away with a sigh. ‘I don’t know. I didn’t think…’ She lowered her voice to a near whisper. ‘I didn’t think Shiro could…  _ sound _ like that.’

‘Or look like that,’ Lance added, mouth glum.

As his friends spoke, Hunk would his yellow headband over and through the fingers of his left hand.

'I don't get it,' continued Lance. 'It's  _Shiro_.'

Pidge stuttered out her reasoning like a broken faucet. It was unlike her. Nobody was themself. ‘I guess… well… the trauma. And… he was scared…’

‘ _ He _ was scared!?’ Lance sat up, prodding at his chest. ‘I was terrified.’

Tugging Lance back down by the shoulders, Pidge resolved herself with a deep breath. ‘I guess we have to forgive him. It’s natural to lose control sometimes. He’s been through a lot. It’s just… a blip.’

Hunk yanked the band free and repeated the process on his right hand, tutting.

‘Yeah,’ Lance nodded slowly. ‘Yeah. I’m sure he’s okay. Just a blip.’

Hunk tore his headband free of his fingers and stood abruptly, tying it off around his head in a few practiced movements. ‘Honestly,’ he began. ‘Fuck Shiro, man. I don’t care how messed up you are; you don’t do that to a friend.’ He stepped free of the couches, hands shaking. He realised then that he was furious.

‘Hunk!’ Lance called, sitting up again. ‘Where are you going, man?’

‘To check on Keith.’

OoO

Hunk hated the castle infirmary. He knew the good healing pods did – saw how they saved Lance from certain death – but when he looked at them all he could see was a ring of lit-up caskets. Gaudy. Inhuman.

Keith’s slumber was not a peaceful one. The stasis had caught him in a rictus of pain, fingers bent like claws and mouth a grimace. His eye however looked like it was healed up and the pinkish tint of bloody healing fluid had turned a mild blue. The multitude scratches and welts on his face had gone, so too the deep gouges on his neck where the beast had gripped him. Hunk shuddered at the memory. All shrieks and flesh. A flash of white and black and the smell of putrid, burning skin. And that was it. Just a memory now. Keith would recover, probably tumble out of the pod soon by the looks of it.

For some things though, recovery would be harder won.

‘Hunk.’

The yellow paladin turned and was almost smiling before he remembered himself and his rage. Shiro stood at the door. He was back in civilian clothes, damp hair clinging to his forehead. For the second time that day, he looked a stranger to Hunk. Unwelcome.  _ Meek. _

‘Shiro.’

The black paladin coughed and gingerly edged into the room. Hunk took one firm step to place himself between his leader and the red paladin suspended behind him. He folded his arms and he stared.

It was painful; to see how the shadows moved across Shiro’s pale face. Surprise, followed by incredulity, followed by tired resignation. He bowed his head and sighed. ‘I…’ he began, not meeting Hunk’s eyes. ‘I did something terrible.’

Hunk picked his chin up and  _ hmm _ ed long and low, signing it off with a punishing question mark. He continued to stare. He felt immovable. He didn’t give much thought to the ghosting whisper,  _ Where was this Hunk on the ship when Keith was being thrown around like a doll? _

‘I’d like to see him. To wait with you. If that’s okay.’

‘So you can sock him again when he wakes up? Tell him how shitty he is?’

Shiro recoiled with a hiss. He looked for a second like he was about to argue:  _ Now see here, cadet! Just who do you think you’re talking to?  _ The usual blameless shit he'd heard a hundred times from other instructors, but never from Shiro.

But there was none of that. Only, ‘No. No, I know. I’m sorry.’ He scrubbed a hand down his face and finally met Hunk’s eye. ‘I want to…  _ need _ … to say sorry.’ He tipped his head at the pod. ‘To Keith.’

At last, Hunk unfolded his arms and padded the few steps back to Keith’s pod, Shiro following in his wake. Standing side by side, they both looked up into the pained face of their friend.

‘He’s so…’ Shiro began, but stopped, shaking his head.

Hunk hummed again. They seemed to agree on the  _ something _ Keith was.  _ Loyal, brave, wilful, brilliant, stubborn, guileless. _

_ Vulnerable. _

‘You know,’ Hunk began. To the left of him, Shiro held his breath. ‘Just before we left, I think he was about to tell me he’s never had pancakes before. Like he was shy. Like he didn't know how to.’ He laughed. ‘Am I being insensitive or is that crazy?’

Shiro shrugged. ‘He probably hasn’t.’ He touched the pads of his fingers to the pod, alloy tips clinking like disturbed glasses on a shelf. ‘He called tree forts “tree forks” for years and almost died from embarrassment when he saw it written down. He encountered his first avocado at the garrison. Threw it in the trash because he thought it was a bad pear. That’s what he called it: “That’s a damn bad pear, Shiro.”’ He laughed, and Hunk laughed a little too. Shiro pressed the smile from his lips. ‘He’s not been dealt the best hand.’

Seemed like it. And the more Hunk thought about Keith's silences, and his privacies, and his rituals, and his gazes, the more everything made sense. Keith was terrified. Not of being torn light-years away from Earth. Not of Zarkon and his 10,000 year old empire. Not of anything  _ bad. _ Keith was terrified of everything good. 'Good' could be used against him. 'Good' could be taken from him.

‘Why’d you hit him, Shiro?’ Hunk whispered. ‘The way he looked at you… He believed he deserved it. He forgave you before it even happened. Why’d you do that, man?’

Shiro gripped Hunk’s forearm briefly, understanding. It took him a moment, but when he spoke he spoke like the old, rational Shiro. The one who never fell apart. ‘I often dream about the arena. Like, what if you were all there with me. It terrifies me. More than anything else, that terrifies me. You wouldn’t believe the number of ways people can die. The sounds they make. Sometimes fast, sometimes slower than you think is possible. Sometimes, the creatures were just so big, and we were so small.’ He breathed deeply. ‘When I saw him in that thing’s hand I couldn’t think. I stopped thinking for a long time after, and I hurt him because of it.’

Exhaustion swallowed Hunk whole. It was tiring, having your world turned upside-down and your heroes made human. Slowly, he placed his arm on Shiro’s shoulder and turned him until they faced one another.

The pod buzzed twice and hissed. A sterile voice gave the two minute signal for completion.

‘Shiro, when he wakes up. You have to make him understand. He deserves nothing but goodness, man. Loving someone doesn’t mean they get to hurt you when they’re scared. He has to know that.’ He jostled Shiro lightly, the sensation alien. This man could kill him with a punch, and a day ago he’d still have asked him for an autograph. ‘You can’t hurt him ever again. I won’t let you.’

Shiro’s eyes were bright with tears. Hunk had never seen a paladin other than Lance cry before, but he figured it was about time. The universe was a bitch.

‘Thank you,’ Shiro mouthed silently. He pressed his knuckles against his lips. The tears kept coming.

‘Pod opening,’ the voice echoed across the room.

Hunk gave Shiro’s arm one last squeeze and made his way to the exit. A more private person would have walked straight out and not looked back, but Hunk wasn’t that person. He lingered, watching silently.

As the pod hissed open and Keith stumbled out, long legs bending like a foal’s, Shiro rushed to catch him. There was a beat as deep violet eyes blearily tried to make sense of the world, before the horror of remembering rushed in. ‘Shiro,’ Keith choked on the word, tears already streaming. ‘I’m sorry. I’m sorry,’ he cried, collapsing to the floor, chest wracked by deep, painful sobs. Shiro followed him to his knees, and pulled the red paladin against him, fingers nesting in wild black hair. He shook Keith gently and held him closer. ‘Keith,’ he said. ‘You have nothing to apologise for.’

Hunk had seen enough. The door whispered shut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I lied about the 5 chapters. There will be an epilogue! Bring yer maple syrup to the party.
> 
> Get at me on tumblr! I'm lonely on there! https://www.tumblr.com/blog/froldgapp
> 
> Avocado banter based on moi! See also: chickpeas, mangoes, and waiting for everyone to be served to begin eating. I didn't know that was a thing until I was about 18! True story. I channelled my inner Keith hard.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That epilogue turned into a chapter.
> 
> Hope you all like cheese!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, no beta. I go back and clean up that shit *later* yo.

‘Ah, ah, ah! Paws off!’ Hunk slapped Lance’s hungry hand away. He pointed firmly at the mixing bowl the blue paladin had abandoned. ‘Back,’ he ordered.

‘But–’

‘Back, back! Your hands are all sweaty. They’re going to mess up the flavour.’ 

Lance groused and slunk back to his task. ‘I’m nervous!’

Pidge laughed, vigorously chopping one of the _something_ fruits that looked like a persimmon the size of her own head. ‘Why are you nervous?'

Lance _tsked_ , huffing. ‘I want it to be good,’ he mumbled.

To the side, Shiro was scrubbing furiously at the castle’s long forgotten fancy tableware, having proven on multiple occasions to be an utter disaster in the kitchen. The others were still a little wary around him, but he’d managed to speak to all of them individually earlier that morning: that he was sorry, that he hoped they would learn to trust him again. He didn’t tell them that Keith had cried himself out on the infirmary floor. He didn’t tell them that he’d carried him the whole way to his bare, unlived-in room. And he didn’t tell Hunk either. Didn’t have to. The yellow paladin was already there, waiting with a provisional cup of hot cocoa. Since it wasn’t needed, together they hatched the current plan: give Keith delicious fucking shit ‘til he falls over.

‘Pancakes, apple-ish pie, space mac n’ cheese, Nunvill fried _something_ , and…’ Shiro was breathless with the effort of cleaning. He tossed his head at the mountain of rolls precisely prepared on the table. ‘Funnel thingies?’

‘Funnel!?’ Hunk made an inverted smirk, judgy. ‘ _Those_ are my signature rolls. If sushi got down and dirty with kimbap in space, had a baby, and then that baby was oven-roasted in-’

‘Jesus, Hunk,’ tittered Pidge.

‘They’re delicious!’ Hunk defended.

The door of the kitchen banged open, Allura and Coran standing on the other side, gleefully bouncing from foot to foot. ‘He’s up! He’s up!’ the cried, giddy – and if Hunk was being honest – a little crazed. They sure liked to get into Earth stuff.

Everyone screamed and returned to their tasks with five times the urgency. Fruit juice flew and spoons clacked.

‘Come on, come on!’ yelled Hunk. ‘This is a kitchen not a crèche. Hustle! Hustle!’

Shiro laughed into his shoulder, while Pidge doubled-down on her duties with a determined war cry. Lance smiled up at Hunk and winked. _Good job, buddy._

OoO

The castle was deadly quiet when Keith padded from his room, hair tied off at his neck in a small ponytail. Lance would probably give him shit for tying it up wet. No better way to start the first day after a brush with death than with a fight. He sighed at the thought of it. He felt stiff all over, like his muscles were plasticised and skin coated in varnish. It was his first bout in the pod. He didn’t fancy another. His cheeks burned from the memory of the night before. How could he face them all again? Shiro had said, again and again that it wasn’t his fault. Shiro had _cried._ But the cold stone in his chest wouldn’t disappear. He’d let them down. He’d let them all down. 

Approaching the kitchen, he heard voices: happy, buoyant, excited. Inching his way closer to the door, he cleared his throat noisily. The voices cut to total silence. He steeled himself with a breath and entered.

‘Guys, I- huh!’ Keith jumped back and yelled. Arranged messily on the other side of the door were all four paladins, Allura, Coran and the mice, who bounded from the princess’ hair and shoulders and across the floor to Keith. Their tiny claws pressed through his jeans as they scaled him like miniature King Kongs. 

‘Surpri-’ Lance yelled, but Pidge slapped her hand across his mouth.

‘It’s not his birthday, you ding dong!’

Lance wrestled free and leaned into her. ‘It’s a surprise, isn’t it?!’

Keith swallowed and took a tentative step forward just as one of the mice tugged the band free from his hair. _Everyone’s a critic._

The group parted and Keith’s eyes fell on the spread: sizzling casseroles, bubbling stews, steaming veggies, thick fruit sauce that ran like lava from lightly flaking pastry. An honest to God looking roasted chicken that couldn't possibly be because space. California rolls? Bowls of snacks, glasses of sparkling Nunvill and gleaming tableware filled the last remaining spaces on the long table. In the centre of it all was a stack of pancakes as tall as a preschool kid.

‘What… is this?’

Hunk stepped forward, palms up. ‘It’s a ‘thank you’ dinner.’ He touched the tips of both index fingers together, nervously. ‘For you.’

Keith snickered, pulling his head back like a belligerent horse. He glanced at Allura and Coran who looked about as lost as he was. ‘Me?’

Pidge hopped once on the balls of her feet and grinned at him. ‘For being part of the team!’

‘Happy unbirthday!’ Lance laughed. Keith simply stared, open-mouthed. Lance leaned into Pidge and whispered, ‘Did we break him?’

As the first fat tear splashed onto the back of Keith’s hand, they realised they might have.

Shiro met him in a single stride, right palm pulling him into a hug by the back of his head. The others watched on, struck dumb for the second time in twenty-four hours. Shiro's other hand rubbed circles on Keith's back. ‘It’s what you deserve,’ he whispered.

Another set of small arms wound around their waists. ‘Come here, you dummies!’ Pidge cried to the others.

Lance was next to join them, easily draping himself over Keith’s back, elbows hooking his shoulders and fingers fluffing up his damp hair. ‘This mullet, man,’ he said, voice thick. Keith’s thin back shuddered beneath his chest with a laugh-cum-sob.

Hunk pushed Allura and Coran forward, pressing them into the throng, they obliged – Coran executing a deafeningly wet sniff. The little knot of friends sniffled and embraced each other quietly, and it was only when a finger prodded Hunk in the side that he looked up. Keith’s red eyes met his own. He didn’t know what they said exactly, but he knew he liked it when Keith looked at him that way. Like he’d done something _important._

‘Guys,’ the red paladin said, at last.

Everyone pulled back and looked at his tear-streaked and blotchy face. He ducked his head a moment, then beamed at them; smile splitting his face from ear to ear. ‘Let’s eat.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finished my first multi-chap for Voltron (woo!)
> 
> Follow me on tumblr for the occasional bad sketch and wee posts: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/froldgapp
> 
> Well, how'd I do? Did I deliver on the hurty? You don't see it, but there's more hurty as Keith lies in bed that night full of Hunk's A+ cooking. >:-)


End file.
